


Details

by Buttons15



Series: Symmbra [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 13:36:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8892718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttons15/pseuds/Buttons15
Summary: Sombra can't understand the importance of Symmetra's attention to detail. Symmetra decides to demonstrate why exactly order is so important.





	

Satya Vaswani was not in her room.

This meant, of course, that she was rather stressed. She was lying on a sofa, which was made of faded red leather, occupying both of its seats. The sofa was uncomfortably warm and her sweat sometimes made her skin stick to it, which she didn’t like. Yet her head was rested on Sombra’s lap and the hacker was running her fingers through Satya’s hair, which she _did_ like.

Sombra was watching a show on the black flat screen which rested two meters and forty-four  centimeters from the sofa. She knew that, because it was the ideal distance for a 55’ television to be from the viewer, and so she had moved the sofa accordingly. The architect wasn’t paying much attention to the series, but it seemed to be a comedy about brothers who argued over the presidency of a soccer team.

Satya didn’t much see the appeal of it; it wasn’t funny or very interesting at all, and she would much rather watch _Extreme Engineering._ Still, Sombra seemed to be happy, which made her happy by extension. Being happy for someone else was not a sensation she got very often. She liked to dwell on it when it happened.

Sitting in a distance from the TV that was not ideal, Sombra’s roommate Amelie flipped the page from the book she was reading. She estimated it to be around 300 pages, of which the French had already gone through about half. Its cover was red and its title was _“Hamlet”,_ by William Shakespeare. Satya knew it was a classic tragedy about the prince of Denmark, but that plot too didn’t quite catch her attention.

She liked Amelie. The woman was quiet and reserved, spoke in low tones and didn’t force Satya into small talk, which she appreciated. She knew Sombra had another roommate, a man called Reyes, but she had never met him, which meant she already liked him more than most people she did know.

Between her sofa and Amelie’s, there was a glass center table - she could see fingerprints on its edges. On top of the table rested a lamp, whose column was wooden and shade was pastel beige. The lamp shade, she noted, was absolutely filthy, just like the rug which laid under the table. The rug had a rough texture and an intricate oriental pattern of reds, blacks and yellows.

The lamp had been moved.

Satya closed her eyes, because looking was tiring.

She couldn’t close her ears to the sound that came from the show, or to the _flap_ from Amelie’s turned page, or from the footsteps of the neighbors above, or from the cars passing the street under them, or from the pedestrians talking, or from –

“The lamp is out of place,” she muttered, and Sombra halted the rhythmic rubbing of her scalp for a moment.

“Do you really feel that’s important?”

She opened her eyes and looked up at Sombra, trying to figure out what emotions the other had tried to convey with her words. Were they a challenge, a mock, an expression of annoyance or just sincere curiosity? She couldn’t really tell. Sombra glanced down at her and she held eye contact for a moment, because Doctor Ziegler had told her it was important to do so when she was going to speak.

But Satya didn’t like speaking, and so she didn’t.

She felt more comfortable when Sombra wrote to her and she could write back, and though the hacker was able to send her texts directly from her mind without even having to type them, the architect was not wearing her visor, therefore she was unable to receive them. Still, at that moment it didn’t matter, because Satya didn’t quite have an answer to the other’s question.

She _did_ feel it was important, of course, but she had a hard time trying to put into words exactly why, and she firmly believed that an opinion which could not be explained or demonstrated should not be expressed at all. Besides, she knew Sombra had a hard time accepting order for its own sake, which meant she needed to be convinced not only that minor changes affected order, but that order was something that should be kept.

And so she closed her eyes again, and after a couple seconds, Sombra resumed her caress. She thought about the question and how to explain it, and when she accepted she couldn’t, she thought about the question and how to demonstrate it. That one gave her an idea, and she smiled when it came to her, because it was simple and obvious and absolutely _perfect_.

 

* * *

 

It was eleven twenty three in the evening. Satya was standing in front of the basic wooden door of Sombra’s apartment. The doorbell switch was white with the faded drawing of a bell on it. Like everything else in that place, it was rather dirty. She pressed the button and two notes sounded, a high and a low, an E and a C. And then she waited. She counted the seconds as she did.

After second thirty-two, Amelie opened the door. Her dark hair was messy and she wore a shirt that was too large for her, reaching her knees.

“Good evening, Ms. Lacroix,” she greeted. “Is Sombra home?”

The French frowned. “No. She’s meeting a contact tonight, didn’t she tell you?”

“She did,” Satya acquiesced. “May I come in?”

The sniper stared at her for a full three seconds, then shrugged. “…okay.”

Amelie stepped to the side to allow her entrance and she walked in. Her hardlight generator buzzed on her left arm, and the familiar hum was soothing. She heard the door close behind her. Turning to the table, she aimed her tool at it, and the wood was enveloped by bright blue lining. Motioning with her arm, she lifted it off the floor and repositioned it where she wanted it to be.

Once she was done, she did the same to the center table and both sofas.

“…what are you doing?” Amelie asked when she finished the living room and walked to the kitchen.

Satya placed the fridge down before answering. “I am relocating all of your furniture two centimeters to the left,” she explained.

“Oh, _of course_ ,” the sniper replied after a moment of silence. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. If you need me, I’ll be… unavailable, actually, so don’t bother.”

She nodded. “It should be a simple procedure. Thank you for your time, Ms. Lacroix.”

It took her about half an hour to finish with her work, and when she did, she went upstairs, to where she knew Sombra’s room was. The door was open, but Satya thought it wouldn’t be beyond the hacker to booby trap the room. She stood by for a couple minutes, looking for triggers. When she found none, she stepped in and took a seat on the chair in front of the computer.

The monitor blinked into life, a purple screen with Sombra’s skull logo on it, but there was nowhere to enter a password or any places to interact. Satya knew the computer was connected to the Interface, which in turn was connected to Sombra herself. She also knew the Interface had a degree of sentience, but to which point, she did not know, and she didn’t think the Mexican knew, either. She looked at the screen.

“Hello,” she began. “I’m Satya Vaswani. I’m Sombra’s…” she hesitated. ‘Friend’ didn’t seem appropriate, because she was friends with her Overwatch colleagues but what she had with Sombra was definitely different.

Yet ‘girlfriend’ didn’t seem quite right either. She thought about Doctor Ziegler and Captain Amari – they were girlfriends and they did things she didn’t do with Sombra, like sex, or kissing. Thinking about that made her head buzz, because she wanted to do those things but the very idea was overwhelming. Sombra didn’t push, which was a good thing. She promised herself she’d talk to Doctor Ziegler about it on their next session.

For now, though, she just stared at the computer screen.

“What is more than a friend but not exactly a girlfriend?” She asked.

There was no answer for a moment, and then words blinked under the skull logo.

 _> a crush, _  the Interface suggested.

Symmetra nodded. “So I am Satya, Sombra’s crush.”

It sounded okay. She cleared her throat and continued. “There is something I’d like to do and I think it would help Sombra understand me better. Can you grant me access to your settings?”

The Interface seemed to think for a moment, and then an adjustment screen popped up. Satya hummed. With a couple clicks, she remapped the keyboard so that the hyphen was swapped for the dash. Then, she tilted the display three degrees to the right. When she was done, she stood and thanked the Interface.

She stopped by Amelie’s room on her way out. The other had made it clear that she didn’t want to be bothered, yet it seemed rude to just leave, so she wrote a hardlight thank you note and slipped it under the door.  And then she exited the apartment and walked back to her place in Overwatch’s headquarters, humming with satisfaction after a job well done.

 

* * *

 

Sombra was not having a good day.

She limped her way to the kitchen, her little toe still hurting from where she’d bumped it, _three times_. She kept walking into things, and none of her code seemed to work, and when she grew frustrated from it and decided to play a match of Counter Strike, she couldn’t hit anything, which took a huge toll on her perfect kill/death ratio. Trying to snipe made her head hurt.

She’d called Angela, worried she might be developing a sudden brain tumor or something, but for some reason the doctor seemed to think her tale of woe was absolutely hilarious.

She heard a loud crashing on the living room, followed by a lot of cursing in French.

“Your _fucking girlfriend,_ Sombra!” Amélie yelled.

_What is that supposed to mea –_

She hit her head on the corner of the cupboard, really hard.

“ _Hijo de la puta madre!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to [bzarcher](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/profile) for bouncing off ideas for this with me!
> 
> I couldn't stop myself from writing more of those two, particularly because I really needed to write something from Sym's point of view just to properly grasp her character. So, about this:
> 
> \- Symm suffers from constant sensory overload. 
> 
> \- She would definitely rather text than speak, and I think the fact that Sombra recognizes that is key to making their relationship work.
> 
> \- Widowmaker is like so done with everything that she looks at her furniture being moved and doesn't even ask


End file.
